


watching stars without you

by thekardemomme



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: (hopefully), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Swimming, Boys In Love, Closeted Character, Falling In Love, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Swimming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-21 03:01:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13731726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekardemomme/pseuds/thekardemomme
Summary: somewhere, in a parallel universe, even never learned how to swim and isak only knows how to drownor; the swimmer!isak au(on temporary hiatus)





	1. sippin' waterfalls

**Author's Note:**

> the title is from kissing you by des’ree because how could it not be honestly

Even’s never been particularly good at sports. Sure, he can play basketball with his friends, or kick around a soccer ball, and sometimes he can even manage to throw a ball somewhat accurately. But he’s never played competitively, has never been good enough, and honestly, he’s never particularly cared to. He prefers arts, sitting in the corner of window sills and sketching random people he sees milling around outside, sitting at a pottery wheel and trying his best to make a pot that doesn’t explode in the kiln. It’s therapeutic for him to create, to work with his hands in a way that rarely, if ever, causes broken bones or sprained wrists or, in Adam’s case, a cut that requires stitches.

He does make sure to go to all of his friends’ games, though. At least as many as he can manage. He’s front row for Elias’s soccer games and Adam’s basketball games and Mikael’s swim meets, right on the sidelines for Mutta’s snowboarding, front row in the center seat to watch Yousef’s dance performances (no matter the venue). He pretends to understand, if only until the games are over, because it makes his friends happy. Secretly—or not so secretly, he supposes—he doesn’t really ever want to be there.

The good thing that’s come out of it all, though, is the discovery of a new spot to draw. His apartment, shared with Mikael, is always full of people, too rowdy for him to focus on anything ever. And the library is almost too quiet, and makes him feel guilty for drawing instead of studying. The aquatics center, however, is almost always mostly empty, and Even can sit upstairs overlooking the pools, and draw for hours on end, totally uninterrupted.

Mikael likes to tell him that he spends too much time in there for someone who doesn’t actually swim. In fact, Even never actually learned how to swim. But that’s besides the point. He doesn’t care to learn. He likes sitting in the bleachers and drawing while Mikael swims laps, or even just going by himself and enjoying the quiet.

Maybe it makes him lame. He’s heard enough jokes from his friends every time he opts out of joining them for a group gym session, and from his mum every time she tells him he needs some meat on his bones, and even from his high school gym coach, who’d told him that he’d been blessed with the height to play basketball but didn’t have the right talent for it. Where his friends excelled in gyms and gym classes and on fields or courts or in stadiums, it just wasn’t for Even—it never had been and it never would be. And he was okay with that. He’s okay with being considered lame for having talents that aren’t praised and desired as much as athletic talents. He doesn’t mind being the creative one.

Maybe it’s just because it gives them a gym buddy of sorts, but Mikael’s pretty supportive of Even’s visits to the aquatics center. Any time they see Even taking out his pencils, or even just heading out the door, they stop him and ask if he’s going to the pool, and if they can come along. Even never says no. It’s kind of nice—sitting in the 2nd floor bleachers, sketching whatever’s in the forefront of his mind, and listening to the light splashing from the pool below.

It’s where he’s been for the last few hours now. His sketch of Elio and Oliver was coming along well, much farther along than it’d been going the rest of the week when he was stuck in the apartment with Mikael all the time. And Mikael had finally gotten back into what they deemed “acceptable shape” for swim season, which was due to start in September. Mikael’s spot on the swim team has been secure even before they entered university, though, so Even’s not sure what they’re worried about. They were the start first year swimmer and would, undoubtedly, remain in the top spot now that his biggest competition had graduated.

“Hey, Even!” Mikael calls from the pool, and Even puts his sketchbook down, leaning over the edge of the barrier. “The first swim practice is this Saturday at 6am, you should come. You can see the new freshman recruits and watch me kick all of their asses.”

Even laughs, rolling his eyes at his best friend’s confidence. Mikael was a good swimmer and they knew it, everyone knew it, which is probably why most of the swim team glared at them when they weren’t looking. “What do you think you’ll be doing?”

“Um, probably some timed laps. Freestyle, maybe some kicking sets. I think coach will probably want to see what we can do in the pool, so that way we know what to work on during dry land workouts.”

“You call them _dry land_ workouts?” He asks, and Mikael nods. “That’s kind of funny, actually. Yeah, I’ll come. It’s not like I really have anything better to do. Do you think your coach will mind that I’m here?”

Mikael shakes their head, pulling themselves out of the pool and walking over to the block, stretching briefly before climbing onto it. “Nah, he’s cool. Hey, time me while I do a quick swim. Just one lap, I don’t think I could do a 200 meter without hurting myself yet.”

“Slack,” Even teases, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Take your mark,” he announces, mocking the nasally voice of Mikael’s swim coach. Mikael laughs as they get into position, and laughs harder when Even makes a buzzer noise, but it’s drowned out as they dive into the water and start swimming.

It’s always fascinating to watch Mikael in the water. It’s like they were born to be in the water, or something. They’ve been a sprint swimmer since they were 9 years old on the rec swim team, but they’d been swimming like a fish for much longer—they probably knew how to swim before they knew how to walk. Even, on the other hand, always opted to sit in the sand and build sandcastles while Mikael swam.

Once Mikael finishes the 50m, Even stops the time and looks at it. It’s nowhere near their best time for a 50m, and Even’s kind of shocked at how Mikael has regressed in the off season. “32.02,” he calls down, and Mikael pulls off their cap and goggles, staring up at Even with wide eyes. “What happened to your 24.12?”

Mikael shrugs. “I don’t know. But I better get it back.” They pull themselves out of the water again, climbing onto the block. “Go again.”

“Take your mark,” Even calls, then makes another buzzer noise. Mikael dives and hits the water at the same moment the door to the locker room swings open, revealing two boys that Even’s never seen around before. They’re looking around like it’s the first time they’ve been in the aquatics center and they’re trying to get acquainted; especially the blond haired boy, who keeps running his hand along the wall.

The blond, Even notices, is extremely fucking cute. His hair curls at the end, just slightly, and he towers over his friend, who’s staring at Mikael in the pool. The blond seems unimpressed by Mikael, though, more enraptured by everything hanging on the walls, all the banners and awards and signs. Even stares for so long that he forgets he’s timing Mikael.

“Even!” He hears, and he quickly snaps his head back to look at Mikael. “What the fuck? You’re supposed to be timing me!”

“We have visitors,” Even announces, pointing to the two boys. The boys, upon realizing Even is talking about them, come closer to the pool and into Even’s proper sight line.

“Hey,” blond boy’s friend says, rather awkwardly. “Sorry if we’re interrupting, my friend just wanted to come check out the pool.”

Even nods. “You’re not interrupting. Mikael’s just practicing because they realized that spending the off season partying and drinking and eating a diet consisting solely of cheese puffs isn’t the best idea.” He turns his phone off and puts it in his pocket, casually leaning against the railing. “I’m Even, by the way.”

“Jonas. And this is Isak.” The blond boy waves when he’s introduced, and Even can’t help but smile, trying out the name on his tongue.

Isak, however, seems interested in Mikael. “Hey, you’re on the swim team?” He asks, and Mikael nods. “Cool. I’m on the swim team, too. My first practice is Saturday.”

“Aw, a first year!” Mikael grins. “This is our second year.”

“Are you on the swim team, too?” Jonas calls up to Even.

Even shakes his head as Mikael bursts into laughter. “Oh, fuck you,” Even groans, flipping them off before turning back to the boys. “No, I’m not. I just come here to draw, mostly. And moral support for Mikael.”

“As if I need moral support.”

“With a time like 32.02 on a 50m freestyle, I’d say you do.”

Mikael sticks their tongue out at him. “Don’t listen to Even, guys. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” They pull themselves out of the pool and, still sopping wet, stands in front of the two boys, holding their hand out for a handshake. Isak accepts without hesitation, whereas Jonas seems uncomfortable with Mikael being literally dripping wet. “He’s also really fucking rude, considering he’s just standing up there yelling down at us instead of coming down and talking like a civilized human.”

Even rolls his eyes, but obliges nonetheless, backing off from the edge and making his way towards the stairs. When he gets down there and properly meets them, he’s taken aback by how beautiful Isak actually is up close. From afar, he’s hot as fuck, but from close up? He’s so fucking beautiful. Even thinks he might not mind coming to swim practices and swim meets anymore, if Isak is there for him to look at.

“Nice to meet you,” Isak says when he shakes Even’s hand, grip firm and assured. Even can’t help but freak out, just a little. He always thought swooning only happened in movies, but apparently he’d been misguided, because he definitely just swooned. “So, what do you two go to school for?”

“Well, I’m majoring in film production and studies. Mikael here is majoring in healthcare management because they want to be an athletic trainer, but really, they’re majoring in eligibility more than anything else.”

Mikael smacks his arm. “Fuck off, Even, Jesus Christ.” They turn back to Isak. “What about you two? Any ideas or are you still undecided?”

“I’m still undecided,” Isak admits. “I know I want to do something in science, but I’m not sure if I want to go into the medical field or if I want to go for research. Maybe even medical research, I don’t fucking know.”

“I’m majoring in political science,” Jonas adds, and Mikael reaches over for a quick fist bump.

Even rolls his eyes. “You and Mikael will be fast friends, I can see it now. Careful, though, they’ll make you read the Communist Manifesto.”

“I’ve already read it,” Jonas shrugs. “Or, well, most of it.”

“Can we keep him?” Mikael asks, and all four of them start laughing. It’s easy to get along with Jonas and Isak already, and Even’s secretly grateful for that. He wants any and every excuse to spend more time around Isak, and if he has to use Mikael’s swim practices, then so be it. “Well, I should get back to laps, but I’ll see you in practice on Saturday. Coach may seem a little scary at first, but he’ll warm up to you pretty quickly. As long as you don’t, like, mention Brooklyn Nine-Nine. He hates that show but no one can figure out why.”

Isak chuckles, “I’ve never seen it.”

“Can we keep _him_?” Even blurts out. “I’ve never seen it either, and people act as though I insulted their families when I say that.”

“Right?!” Isak agrees, and Even notices the small, barely there step he takes closer to Even. He tries to bite back a smile. Mikael mumbles some shit about B99 being the greatest show in existence as they make their way back to the block, pulling on a swim cap. “Hey, do you mind if I swim, too? I have my suit, I can just go change really quick.”

Even nods, “Yeah, sure. Do you swim 50m freestyles?”

“Uh, sometimes.”

“His specialty is the 1650,” Jonas grins, clapping Isak on the back. Isak—quite unlike Mikael—looks modest, blushing and ducking his head, trying to wave it off. “You’re looking at the star of his high school swim team. Unbeatable.”

Mikael makes a noise from the block, and the three boys turn to see them with their hands on their hips, their squinting eyes visible even through their goggles. “What’s your best 1650m time?” They ask, like a challenge. Even watches the exchange curiously, from Mikael’s defensiveness to the playful glint in Isak’s eye, and he can’t help but feel as though he’s missing out on a joke.

“Freestyle? 21:21,” Isak grins, and Even can’t help but laugh when he sees the look of shock on Mikael’s face. “That’s my goal, to beat it. Katie Ledecky’s record time on the 1500m is 15:13, I don’t think I’d mind surpassing that.”

“Surpassing the time of an Olympian? I’d like to see you try,” Mikael fires back.

Isak points over his shoulder with his thumb, one eyebrow cocked. God, Even hates when Mikael is cocky, but _damn,_ confidence (borderline arrogance) is fucking hot on Isak. “Let me go put my suit on and we can see who swims a faster 100m, the sprint swimmer or the distance.”

“It’s going to be the sprinter,” Mikael replies, positioning themselves on the block as if to prove some point. “Speed is literally in my blood.”

“Yeah? Water’s in mine. See you in a minute.”

Isak disappears into the locker room to change, and Even just sort of gapes. He’s surprised he’s not hard in his pants just from that exchange because god _damn_ Isak is so fucking hot. Jonas heads up to the bleachers where Even had been sitting originally, to get a better view. Even, however, sits between the two blocks, to make sure he can see who hits the wall first.

When Isak finally emerges, Even nearly comes in his pants. If he was hot before, he definitely is now, in this tight little swim suit that makes his ass look fucking delectable and—okay, he needs to chill. ~~(He can’t wait to see Isak get wet, hopefully in more ways than one.)~~

Even prepares his timer while Isak stretches and gets his cap and goggles on. Once he’s done, he climbs on the block and shoots Even a thumbs up. Mikael leans down, too, and Even prepares himself. “Take your mark,” he calls, and then makes another buzzer noise. He definitely doesn’t secretly hope Isak wins, of course, because Even is nothing if not loyal to his best friend. Naturally.

Mikael takes the lead quickly, Even notices. Mikael had told him once that, while sprints don’t last very long, they’re just as agonizing as a distance race. And the sprint races are over before you have time to overthink it and psych yourself out. Mikael always says the best part of sprints is channeling your adrenaline and using it to win against an opponent. That it gives you an unmatchable sense of pride in yourself—a feeling Mikael was never able to find when they swam 800m freestyles and used up all of their adrenaline in the first 500, having to push through unbearable physical pain in the last 300. So it doesn’t surprise him that Mikael is winning.

However, after their tumble turns on the opposite wall, Isak slowly starts overtaking Mikael. It’s little by little, at first, but then it’s a good few centimeters, and before Even realizes it—Isak’s touching the wall. He hits lap on his phone timer, and then hits end when Mikael hits the wall. The two of them come up and pull their goggles and caps off, waiting for Even to tell them their times.

“Isak’s time is 1:28.32,” Even says slowly. “Mikael, yours is 1:29.20.”

Isak turns to Mikael and extends a hand to shake, but Mikael ignores it. “Sour grapes? That’s fine,” Isak sighs, pulling himself out of the pool and walking to the bench to grab a towel, pulling it around his shoulders. “This was fun, seriously. I’ll see you Saturday. I hope there’s no hard feelings.” He sounds genuine, and Even knows he probably is—despite winning one lap race, he probably still wants to impress Mikael—but Mikael seems unimpressed. Isak seems to just cut his losses as he heads back to the locker room to change.

Even turns to Mikael, smacking their head. “You don’t have to be fucking rude to him just because he beat you _once._ The race was your idea, you’re the one who said you’d like to see him try to beat an Olympian. You don’t have anyone to blame but yourself.”

“He’s a distance swimmer, Even,” Mikael sighs, climbing out of the pool and grabbing their own towel. “He’s my teammate, but he’s also my enemy.”

“Keep your enemies close, I guess,” Even mumbles, rolling his eyes. “I’m going to go apologize for you, like the _civilized human_ I am.” Throwing Mikael’s words back at them seems to resonate, and Mikael sighs, saying they’ll be nice on Saturday. Even thanks them, but goes into the locker room anyway.

Isak’s in the showers, probably rinsing off chlorine. Even tries not to go breathless at the thought, walking over to the showers and stopping before he gets any view of inside the showers. “Hey, Isak, it’s Even,” he announces, and he hears Isak ask what’s up over the hum of the shower. “I just wanted to apologize for Mikael. They’re not usually like that, I promise.”

“It’s fine. I’m competitive, too, I know how it is.”

“Yeah,” Even says. “Well, still, you two are teammates now. There shouldn’t be a rivalry among teammates. I’m sure they’ll get that stupid mindset out of their head.”

“Mindset?” Isak asks. “What mindset?”

Even rolls his eyes. Isak not knowing just goes to show that Mikael is fucking ridiculous and making up these ‘rivalries’ for some reason. Probably just for the drama of it. “They say you two have to be enemies because you’re distance and they’re a sprinter.”

Isak snorts, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Shouldn’t he—I’m sorry, I mean _they,_ I didn’t mean to use the wrong pronouns. Shouldn’t _they_ be more concerned with people they’re actually going to race against?”

“I don’t know,” Even laughs, shaking his head at his friend’s utter ridiculousness. “They’re nothing short of a drama queen, I’ll warn you now.”

“It’s cool. I can be quite the drama queen myself.” Even hears the showers turn off, and he averts his eyes until he’s positive Isak is in a towel. When he looks up next, it’s to Isak with a towel slung low around his hips, just walking out of the shower and towards his bag. Even, a bit awkwardly, follows. “”Will you be at the practice on Saturday? For Mikael’s moral support?”

Even nods. “Yeah, I’ll be there.” He hesitates for a moment, biting his lip nervously. He wants to flirt, but he doesn’t want to fuck it up, risk making Isak uncomfortable or something. “I can’t wait to see you in your element. You know, swimming a 1650m freestyle instead of a 100m sprint.”

“Honestly, water is my element. Drop me in there and tell me to do something and I’ll do it. My mum says it’s a wonder I wasn’t born with fins and gills.”

“That’s so cool,” Even tells him, honestly. “She must be so proud of you.”

“I hope so. I worked hard.” He turns to Even, a shy smile on his face. “My girlfriend is so excited to come to a meet one day. I think she might be more proud than my mum.”

Even’s heart sinks. “Oh, that’s nice. I’m glad you have someone so supportive.”

_GirlfriendGirlfriendGirlfriendGirlfriend._

“Thanks. Me, too,” Isak agrees, dropping his towel. Even looks away on instinct, but it works out, because now Isak won’t see the disappointment in his eyes. “Thanks for letting me swim with Mikael today. It was nice to get back in the water, it’s been too long.”

Even laughs, “How long? Too long for Mikael is like, a day, even if they just dip their feet in.”

“Same, honestly. I wasn’t lying when I said I have water in my veins.”

 _That’s hot,_ Even wants to say. “I’m excited to see that spirit in action,” he says instead. “I should get back to Mikael, they probably want to practice more. It was nice to meet you, though. Good luck on Saturday. Maybe we’ll see each other.”

Isak grins at him, and Even’s heart picks up. _Girlfriend._ “Yeah, hopefully.” _What does that mean? Nothing, you dumbfuck, he has a fucking girlfriend._

Even leaves the locker room before his air supply cuts off altogether, just in time for Jonas to be walking in. Even gives him a quick goodbye and then approaches Mikael, who’s just scrolling through their phone. “Wanna go for more laps?” He asks, and Mikael says they do, putting their cap back on.

He goes back upstairs, where his sketchbook is still abandoned on the bleachers. So much for drawing in peace—he knows good and damn well he’ll be sketching Isak more than once tonight, after they go home. For now, though, he just clears out his timer, leans against the edge, and watches Mikael prepare themselves.

“Take your mark,” he calls, and then, a second later, Mikael dives in.


	2. colorblind

Even’s sketchbook is pretty banged up. The pages aren’t as stark white as they used to be, and the binding is frayed; and yet Even can’t imagine using another one—to the extent that, with every page he flips, his heart breaks a little. He’s 13 pages from the end, and really, he shouldn’t be as upset as he is about it, but he can’t help it. It’s like losing a child. Or, really, like losing a lot of children, considering all the drawings he’d worked so hard on.

Everyone knows not to touch it. Mikael, Adam, Yousef, Mutta, Elias—they all know that Even’s sketchbook is off limits. It’s not his large sketchbook, the one he uses for class—he doesn’t care if they flip through those. But the small green one he carries around? It’s his baby, his prized possession, basically his _diary._ Anyone seeing what Even has sketched in there would just be embarrassing.

Especially now.

He’s been awake since the sun came up, sitting on his bed and doodling the profile of a very, _very_ familiar (and very beautiful) boy, aided only by the soft sunlight coming in the window. He can hear Mikael’s snoring from down the hall, where their room is, and he knows that as soon as that stops, he’ll have to close his book and quit drawing, lest Mikael barge in and accidentally see what he’s been scribbling for hours.

He stares down at the page in front of him. At the cartoonish boy staring back at him, still made up of just pencil lines. Even can already picture how he’ll color this one—slightly tanned skin, the tip of his nose and the apples of his cheeks tinged the most beautiful red, scarlet maybe. Maybe he’ll draw water over the top of him so Isak is where he belongs. He closes his sketchbook and digs through his art supplies, pulling out a variety of oil pastels. He really should buy some new ones, these are pretty old and worn down, but they’ll work for now. He lays them down on his bedside table, from light to dark, and then steps out of his room to get the laundry from downstairs. Might as well be productive until they have to leave.

When he comes back upstairs, laundry basket in hand, he finds Mikael sitting at the table, eating a bowl of cereal. They look dead, which makes Even laugh. “Not used to being up so early, are you?” Even teases, crossing through the small kitchen to get to the even smaller living room, where he sets the basket on the coffee table.

“This is an ungodly hour,” Mikael murmurs, turning to face Even. “How long have you been up?”

Even shrugs, “Couple of hours. I drew for a little and then decided I should go get these clothes from the dryer downstairs. Get them folded before they wrinkle too much.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Not yet. You know I can’t eat first thing in the mornings, it makes me sick.”

“Yeah, but if you’ve been up for a few hours, you should eat now. The practice could go for some time. I don’t want you to like, starve or something.”

Even rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t starve, I’d just leave and go get something.”

“Are you sure? I don’t think you’d leave for a second, because then you’d have to stop looking at Isak.”

Even balks at that, nearly dropping the pair of jeans he was folding, but quickly recovers. He really, really doesn’t want to give himself away. At least, not yet. “What are you talking about? I’m not going to that practice for Isak, I’m going for you.” He adds the jeans to Mikael’s pile of clothing and then turns to face them, eyebrows raised. Mikael gives him a look, but then turns back to their cereal, finishing it off. “What?”

“Nothing,” Mikael laughs, standing up and moving to wash their dish in the sink. “I just noticed you looked at him for quite some time the other day. And you talked to him for a long time in the locker room, so I just figured—”

“Well, I don’t like him, if that’s what you’re playing at,” Even interrupts, to which Mikael holds up their hands in surrender. “I’ve only met him once, and it wasn’t for very long. Besides, even if I did, he has a girlfriend.”

Mikael looks up, eyebrows pulled together. “Girlfriend? Really?” They ask, and Even nods. “Hm. He put off a hell of a lot of gay vibes.”

“Something tells me that’s homophobic, bipobic, _and_ panphobic.”

“Gaydar is only homophobic when it’s straight people, Even. As a gay, I can tell—most of the time—when other people are gay. I’ve only been wrong once. For example, Isak’s friend, Jonas? He’s totally bisexual. Isak, though? Totally thought he was gay as hell.”

Even snorts. “Does this mean you’ve been wrong _twice_?”

“Nope,” Mikael grins. “ _This_ is the first time.”

Even finishes up folding all of the clothes, putting them aside for Mikael to go put away. He grabs some hangers, puts any shirts and hoodies on them, and then puts everything back in the laundry basket. He folded them, so Mikael can put them away. Even refuses to do everything around here.

“I’m going to go get dressed,” Mikael announces as they put their bowl and spoon on the drying rack. “Once I’m done, we’ll go, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

While Mikael gets dressed, Even goes into his room to get some things together that he can keep himself busy with. He packs a messenger bag with some pencils, his sketchbook, his phone and its charger, and a copy of Fahrenheit 451. Mikael probably wasn’t wrong when they said Even would spend most of his time staring at Isak, but he doesn’t want to be too much of a creeper.

The walk to the aquatics center isn’t that long. The air is warm without being hot, and most people are still asleep after last night’s partying, so it’s quiet on campus. Mikael and Even don’t even really talk on the way, opting instead to listen to music on their respective headphones, walking side by side and enjoying the sun warming their skin.

A lot of the first year swimmers are already in the locker room when they arrive, but after a quick scan, Even realizes that Isak isn’t there yet. He swallows his disappointment and says a quick goodbye to Mikael, heading out of the locker room and up to the bleachers. There’s a few people up there, probably friends of the swimmers, as well as a couple of older people that Even assumes are someone’s parents. Even takes a seat farthest away from everyone, settling against the wall and cracking open his book. He’ll pay attention when practice actually starts.

He’s about 15 pages further into his book when someone sits next to him. He glances up to see a young-looking girl with a pixie cut, an excited smile on her face. “Hi!” She grins, when she realizes she’s caught Even’s attention. “I’m Emma.”

“Even,” he says slowly, confused as to why she’s sitting here and introducing herself.

“I know,” she nods. “Isak told me to come sit next to you, because you two are friends.”

“We are?”

“Yeah? He hasn’t been able to _stop_ talking about you and Mikael. Apparently you met him and Jonas earlier this week.”

Even nods, “Yeah, we did. Sorry, I didn’t realize he’d be bringing you today. I assume you’re his girlfriend?” Emma nods enthusiastically. “Do you go here?”

Emma shakes her head. “Not yet. I’m a third year at Nissen. To be honest, I’m not even sure I really want to go here. I mean, I will because Isak’s here, but it’s not my top choice.”

“You shouldn’t go here just because Isak is here.”

“Isak always says that,” she sighs, as if the very idea of them going to separate universities is absolutely ridiculous. “Why wouldn’t I want to be with my boyfriend, though?”

Even shrugs, “Fair point, I guess.” It’s a lie. Even still thinks it’s stupid, but he doesn’t really feel like arguing with her about it. “So, uh, how did you and Isak meet?”

Emma grins, a wistful look on her face. Even kind of wants to gag, even though he knows that he probably gets that same look whenever _he_ talks about Isak, and he’s not even the one dating the boy. “My friend, Cecilie, joined an lgbt club at our school, and she met Jonas there. She had a crush on him, but he’s, like, an 70-30 bi dude. So. But she got him to invite her to a party with him, and I met Isak there.”

“An 70-30 bi? What the hell is that?”

“You know, percentages.” She turns to face him properly, like she’s going to teach him a lesson or something. “He’s bisexual, but he’s 70% into men and 30% into girls. That 30% chance is sort of small, so she didn’t want to try.”

“Not to be rude, but I’m _100%_ sure that’s not how it works.”

“Yes, it is! Cecilie would know.”

“Is Cecilie bi?”

“No,” Emma says. “She thought she was, but then a girl was flirting with her in the lgbt group and she got uncomfortable and decided she was straight after all.”

Even blinks. “Okay. Good for her, I guess. But if she’s not bisexual she doesn’t have much of a say about bisexuality,” he says simply, hoping she’ll just drop it or something. He really doesn’t have the energy for this.

Emma just rolls her eyes. “Well, anyway, I told her she wouldn’t want to be with Jonas anyway. Who wants to be with a guy who’s been with other guys? I’d be worried about him, like, cheating on me or something. _Especially_ with bi men, because they’re attracted to _anyone,_ which means they’re more likely to cheat.”

“That’s...also not how it works.” Even puts his book aside. “Look, the stuff you’re saying is really rude and harmful. I know you probably mean well, but you’re being kind of an asshole. Bisexual men or women are not more likely to cheat, and they’re not _dirty_ or something because they’ve been with someone of the same sex.”

“It’s just my opinion.”

“You don’t get to have an opinion when it comes to someone’s identity. Sorry.”

“Why are you so defensive?”

“Because you’re being rude,” Even snaps, and then quickly tries to reel himself back in, because people around them have started looking. “I’m pansexual, okay? And you’re being really offensive.”

Emma stares at him for a moment  before pressing her lips together and staring back at the pool. The swim team hasn’t come out yet, but Even doesn’t really care. He’s just grateful she’s shutting the hell up now so he can read his book and try to forget that this bullshit ever happened.

Of course it doesn’t last long. He should’ve expected that from Emma.

She scoots closer. “So, you’re here with your friend, right? Mikael?” She asks, her voice quiet, like she’s scared of him getting angry again. Even just nods. “Isak talked a lot about him, too.”

“Them,” Even corrects. “Mikael’s nonbinary.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. Isak told me that.” She fiddles with her fingers, picking at the chipped nail polish there. “Look, I’m sorry for being rude. I didn’t mean to.”

 _Yes, you did. You insulted bisexual men multiple times and it went far beyond ignorance._ “Okay,” he says simply, looking up at her. “How much of this stuff have you said around Jonas?”

A pause. “Probably too much.”

“Then it’s him you owe an apology to.”

“Yeah, okay.” Silence for a few moments. “Hey, the boys are coming out. Oh, and Mikael. Wait, is it okay to refer to him as a boy like that? Like, I don’t mean refer to him as a boy, but like—”

“It’s fine,” Even reassures her, and she smiles, nodding a little. “Let’s just watch the swimming.”

“Okay,” she sighs, clearly feeling defeated.

Even can tell that she’s the type of girl who’s never really been disliked. That she’s popular at school, probably has a ton of friends (friends or yes-men), people who worship the ground she walks on. She’s probably never been called out for the shitty things she says. Even knows that some of it, to an extent, isn’t her fault. If she was never taught, he can’t blame her for not knowing. But her attitude towards being corrected and called out rubbed Even the wrong way. It was like she didn’t _want_ to learn, didn’t want to accept the fact that she was in the wrong. Even wonders if anyone’s ever actually told her she’s wrong.

Mikael comes out of the locker room, instantly finding Even in the crowd. They wave up at him and Even smiles, waving back. He watches as Mikael grabs Isak’s arm and points up to where Even and Emma are sitting. He makes eye contact with Isak as he waves, and Even smiles, ready to wave back.

“Isn’t he so cute?” Emma gushes, leaning forward to wave. “Waving at me like that?”

Even awkwardly lowers his half-raised hand. Of course he was waving at Emma, she’s his girlfriend. Even only just met him. “Yeah, it’s sweet,” Even replies, voice tight and a bit stilted.

Practice starts with the coach making them all stretch. Even tries his best to focus on reading his book, but he finds that his eyes keep being drawn to Isak’s ass, _especially_ when he bends over. He’s wearing the same tight suit he wore last time, a Speedo that looks like it barely fits. Even wants to look, to stare, but he knows that he can’t if he wants to avoid popping a boner in front of god and everybody. He can see Emma practically drooling in the corner of his eye, and some weird jealousy stirs up. He knows he won’t be able to focus on reading now.

He grabs his pencils and his sketchbook, flipping to a blank page. He quickly skips past his Isak drawings, hoping Emma doesn’t see them. Then he puts pencil to paper and starts drawing an eye, the easiest thing for him to draw. He adds dramatic eyelashes, Egyptian style eyeliner, a bold eyebrow. Below it, he sketches a man’s jaw, strong and angular, the kind Even would like to suck love bites on.

“You’re really good,” Emma says, and Even has to fight the urge to hit her over the head with the book because goddamn she will not stop fucking talking.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She peers over his shoulder, and Even’s pencil freezes. He can’t draw when people watch like that. “Is that Cleopatra’s eye? The eyeliner reminds me of Egypt.”

Even shakes his head. “No. It’s just an eye. I guess it could be hers, but, like, I didn’t draw it with her in mind.”

“Did you draw it with a girlfriend in mind?”

“If I didn’t know any better,” Even says, to change the subject, “I’d say you’re hitting on me.”

Emma laughs, “As if!” She shakes her head, looking out at the pool again. The team is now lining up by the blocks, presumably for relays. Even puts his sketchbook aside and stands, walking towards the edge. It only takes half a second for Emma to join him. “Isak told me that you and Mikael were super cool. And if that’s true, you probably know about some cool parties, right? You two seem like the kind of guys who get drunk off your asses at frat parties.”

“No, I don’t drink.”

“You don’t?” Emma asks. “Wow. I can’t imagine not drinking. I need wine to, like, _live._ ”

“Aren’t you underage?”

“What are you, my father?” Emma teases, but Even doesn’t laugh. “Come on. Don’t tell me you didn’t drink in high school.”

“No, I don’t drink,” Even repeats.

Emma laughs. “Right, sorry.” She leans in, knocks their shoulders together. “Look, Mikael’s swimming. He’s doing pretty well, is that the butterfly?”

“They, and yeah, it is.”

“Shit, sorry.”

Even waves his hand, “It’s fine.”

They sit in silence for a while, just watching the race. Even counts himself lucky that Emma is seemingly more interested in drooling over her boyfriend than talking about him, at least for the time being. Even can’t blame her—he’s also way more interested in watching Emma’s boyfriend. The way the water glides over his back—his muscles rippling—the way his body moves like it comes more naturally to him than walking. It’s not even about how sexy it is, not really—more so, Even is just fascinated. He’s enraptured, in awe, every single descriptor, he’s so entranced—

So much so that he doesn’t realize when the deck erupts in chaos.

Not at first, anyway. He doesn’t realize anything’s wrong until he sees Mikael jumping into Isak’s lane, and pulling him out. That’s when it registers, and Even’s legs are running before his brain even makes the decision to do so. He runs so fast that he nearly falls down the stairs in the process, but it doesn’t matter, because he’s by Isak’s side in seconds.

“What happened?” He asks Mikael, who’s putting Isak down on one of the benches. Isak looks a bit dazed, but he’s not bleeding, and he’s not crying out in pain, so that’s a good thing.

“He went to do his flip turn and managed to hit his head on the side,” Mikael says, running their hand over the top of Isak’s head. Isak hisses, pulling away from the touch. “Doesn’t look like there’s any blood, but there’s definitely a huge bump. He needs to go to the doctor.”

“Should someone call an ambulance?” One of the boys asks.

“No,” Even interrupts. “I have a car, I can drive him. It’ll be faster.”

Mikael nods. “Yeah, you take him.”

“My old swim coach used to ring a bell when you were close to the wall,” Isak murmurs, and Even’s eyes go to him. He looks so sad, and Even knows he feels like he’s let everyone down. “I guess I forgot that I wasn’t supposed to be listening for a bell. I’m sorry.”

Even shakes his head, sitting down next to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “No, don’t apologize. Can you walk? We can go get you changed and then I’ll get my car and drive you to the hospital.” Isak nods, says he can, but Even helps him stand anyway. Mikael offers to help him change while Even sprints to their flat and retrieves his car.

When he gets back, Isak, Emma, and Mikael are standing on the deck, Emma holding all of Even’s stuff. They all perk up when they see Even rushing over.

“I’m going to help you get him to the car,” Mikael informs him. “Emma’s going to stay behind to get his stuff and whatever else and take that back to his place.

Emma nods, “I’ll catch up with you two at the hospital later, though.”

“Okay.” Even reaches for his bag, pulling it over his shoulders. He and Mikael start walking Isak to the car when they’re interrupted by Emma yelling Even’s name.

“Wait!” She calls, holding up his green sketchbook and waving it. “You forgot this.” She tries to run across the deck to give it to him, but it’s slippery from all of the water, and she ends up landing on her ass. Even’s sketchbook ends up in lane 10.

For a long moment, everyone stares. Even’s frozen in his spot, watching water fill up the pages, the weight pulling it under. He barely notices Mikael stepping away to retrieve it. It’s no use, it’s ruined. All of the drawings are ruined and the blank pages are too waterlogged to ever be used. It’s like Even’s heart stops in his chest.

“Fuck, Even,” Emma says, slowly, tentatively. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to… I’ll buy you another one. I know I can never replace those drawings but I can… Fuck, I’ll make it up to you. Anything to make it up, I’ll do.”

Even shakes his head, pulling himself back into the moment. “No, it’s-it’s fine. Right now we need to focus on getting Isak to the hospital.” He takes the sketchbook from Mikael’s hands and tosses it into a random trash bin, his heart cracking as he did so. “Come on, let’s go.”

Together, Mikael and Even have no issue getting Isak to the car. Isak’s not even really struggling that much, as it is. Mikael gives him some ice for the bump on his head and tells Even to drive easy, and then they head back inside. It’s the first time Isak and Even are really, truly _alone_ together, no chance of someone else coming into the room—and of course it has to be the time when tears are in Even’s eyes.

“Even?” Isak murmurs, and Even hums. “I’m sorry about your sketchbook. Emma’s… She means well, okay? She really does. I could tell you two didn’t really get along. I could see it on your face when you two were talking.”

Even grimaces. “You saw that?”

“Yeah. It’s okay. I know how she can be. She always talks to me about Jonas being a 70-30 bi, asking if he’s ever flirted with me. It’s kind of weird.” Even can’t help but let out a laugh at that. He doesn’t mean to, and he starts to apologize, but Isak just laughs too. “What was she saying? If you don’t mind my asking…”

“Just some stuff about Jonas being bisexual. I had to stop her when she got a bit offensive, because I’m pansexual, so—”

“Oh, my god,” Isak groans, covering his face. For half a second, Even panics, thinking Isak’s in pain. But Isak pulls his hands down. “I’m so sorry. She’s… Look, I’ll talk to her. I’m really sorry for whatever she said. I promise I don’t think like that _at all._ She and I have talked about it before, I guess she just hasn’t learned. Shit, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.” He shoots Isak as bright a smile as he can manage, and Isak smiles back. Even wants to kiss him so badly his heart aches with it. “It’s not like I don’t hear it from people all the time. You know the whole ‘just pick a side’, or ‘pansexuality and bisexuality are the same thing’, or ‘pansexuality is rooted in transphobia and shouldn’t be used as a cis label’. It’s really, really common.”

Even can see, out of the corner of his eye, how discouraged Isak looks by it. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, and Even just nods. He knows Isak means he’s just _sorry,_ not only sorry for Emma. “What’s most important is that you have a label that you’re comfortable with. You deserve to feel proud of that without being spoken to or about like that. I’m so… disgusted with society sometimes. Most of the time.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“Yeah.” Isak bites his lip, and for a second, it feels like Isak’s holding his breath—like he’s on the verge of saying something, but isn’t quite sure he wants to. “I hope I don’t have a concussion,” he says eventually. “I’d hate to be out before the season even starts.”

Even reaches over to pat his knee. “I’m sure everything will be fine,” he reassures, which makes Isak smile. Even doesn’t want to move his hand, but he does. “It’s just good that you didn’t go unconscious underwater.”

Isak shrugs, “I would be fine. Gills and fins, remember?” He teases. Even tries to bite back his smile—it’s too big and bright to be full of anything other than pure, fond love—but fails miserably.

“Yeah, I remember.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to biscuit (@evensdramaticshenanigans) for betaing this one xo


	3. at ease

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unedited

**Isak** (12:31pm)

_Hey, don’t worry about coming to the hospital. I’ve already been through and am totally fine, no concussion or anything. Just a bump haha. Even’s driving me home now, okay?_

 

 **Emma** (12:34pm)

_driving u here?_

 

 **Isak** (12:34pm)

_Yes_

 

 **Emma** (12:36pm)

_i thought u would be going back 2 practice lol_

 

“Maybe I should tell her that I am,” Isak says, once Even reads through the texts. Even raises his eyebrows. “I kind of… Don’t want to be around her right now. Is that bad?”

Even shrugs, “No. But if it’s because of what happened with me and her earlier, you shouldn’t be worried about that. It’s really not that big of a deal.”

“Well, it _is_ that, but also—I know she’s going to be a pain in the ass about my head. She’s a worrier. And I kind of don’t want to deal with that.”

“That’s your choice. Is practice still going?”

“Probably,” Isak nods. “I _could_ go back. Or, maybe we could go do something.”

Even rolls his eyes, despite every cell in his body wanting to agree. “Isak, you just got told by the ER doctors that you need to rest. I don’t think going out and painting the town will do you any good. Neither will swim practice.” When he realizes that Isak’s pouting, it takes everything within him not to melt into a puddle right then and there. “We could go back to my place? Mikael’s probably still at practice, so we’d have the place to ourselves.”

Isak nods, and Even watches over his shoulder as he types a reply to Emma.

 

 **Isak** (12:40pm)

_Actually, we’re going to Even’s for a bit. It’s closer and I’m kind of tired. x_

 

“There. Problem solved.” He tucks his phone back in his pocket and Even wonders, briefly, if Emma is actually okay with it, or if Isak will unlock his phone to a dozen angry messages. He chooses not to think about it. At the end of the day, it’s none of his business.

The drive back to his place isn’t that long, but it’s quiet. The two of them usually have no problem talking to each other, but there’s a weird energy in the car—it’s like Emma is there, glaring at them for talking. Even wonders if she even would react that way. If she is jealous of Even, or, even if she isn’t, if she notices the way Even looks at her boyfriend. He knows he’s not exactly subtle, and he hardly has any self control. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d caught on. He wouldn’t be surprised if _Isak_ caught on.

Even parks on the side of the street, coming around to help Isak out. Isak just laughs, insists he doesn’t need help, then lets Even assist him anyway. His hand is on Even’s bicep—for balance, Even reminds himself—for the whole ascent up to Even’s floor.

“You’ll have to forgive the mess,” Even says, digging in his pocket for his keys. “We clean on weekends, and usually we keep it tidy during the week anyway, but you know… College. Life gets in the way sometimes.”

Isak shrugs. “You should see my room, dude.”

“Something about your phrasing tells me that I’d rather not.”

“That’s probably a smart decision. Don’t worry, though, I’ll clean it up so you can come over.”

Even can’t help the way his heart flutters, no matter how many times he reminds himself that Isak has a girlfriend. A _pretty_ girlfriend, who he probably loves a lot, and who he probably has regular sex with in the very bedroom Even’s privately aching to be in. Imagining her face doesn’t serve as the emotional cold shower that Even had hoped it would. So, he just focuses on unlocking the door, and pushing it open.

“Welcome to la casa de Even y Mikael,” he announces, as if it’s some grand estate. “This is the kitchen, of course, the living room straight through. And the hall right there goes to our bedrooms and the bathroom, in case you ever need to use it. Now, we can watch Netflix in the living room or my room, your choice.”

Isak toes his shoes off, leaving them by the door. “Fuck you, I hate making decisions. Um…” His cheeks go the cutest shade of pink as he contemplates. Even wants to kiss them. “The living room is fine, I guess.”

“Your wish is my command, señor. Popcorn?”

“Sure.”

They both walk further into the kitchen, Even reaching up into the cupboard to get popcorn kernels, butter, and coconut oil. Next to him, where Isak had seated himself at the table, Even can hear Isak laugh. He turns, eyebrows raised.

“I’ve never heard of making popcorn with coconut oil. All of that looks a bit like clogged arteries waiting to happen.”

Even laughs, too. “I’m here for a good time, Isak, not a long time.” Isak laughs again, louder this time, and it makes Even smile. Every time Isak laughs, Even swears he can feel his heart trying to break out of his chest. Despite how heavy his heart is from the loss of his sketchbook, it isn’t taking Isak much at all to lift it. _He has a girlfriend, Even._ He turns his back and grabs two pots from a lower cupboard. “First, we melt the butter in this small pot,” Even says, his voice a bit shaky—probably from his heart trying to climb up and out via his throat.

“That’s a whole stick of butter, Even,” Isak points out. Even just nods, dropping it into the pot and then reaching to turn the burners on. “Well, damn. I truly admire Mikael, now, for their ability to stay in shape despite having a roommate who cooks like _that_.”

“Isak, I can make healthy foods, too. Stay for dinner one day and I’ll make you the best damn plate of chicken parmesan with zucchini pasta.”

“Zucchini pasta?”

“Yeah,” Even says, putting a dollop of coconut oil in the bottom of the bigger pot. “It’s just noodles made from zucchini.”

“Are you sure you’re on a uni student’s budget?”

Even laughs, pouring a cup of kernels into the pot and placing it on the preheated burner, almost fully covering the top with a lid. “I am, but my parents are very helpful and very generous,” he admits, and Isak hums in understanding. “Mikael’s parents help us pay for this apartment, and my parents help with grocery expenses. We’re pretty lucky, in that sense.” The kernels start popping, startling both of the boys. Even blushes as he turns to the pot, grabbing the handles and swirling the kernels on the bottom so they don’t burn.

The smell of coconut oil fills the room, a warm but not overwhelming scent. It makes Even’s stomach growl just upon smelling it. “I’ll have to take you up on that dinner. I can only survive so long on cup noodles and microwave burritos,” Isak says.

“It’s a date, then,” Even says, and then instantly regrets his wording. Why did he have to make everything so weird?

Thankfully, Isak just nods. “It’s a date.”

After a few more minutes (and a small burn on Even’s pinky finger), they both settle on the couch, wrapped up in blankets with the bowl of popcorn between them. Even hands over the remote to let Isak pick the movie, but they end up both agreeing to watch The Breakfast Club.

It doesn’t take long for them to lose focus.

“I never learned how to swim,” Even admits, after Isak tells a story about swim lessons at school, and how he was better than everyone else. He watches from the corner of his eye as Isak’s jaw drops. “Don’t look at me like that! It’s not my fault. We didn’t have a swimming pool when I was growing up, and we’ve never really gone to the beach. I just… Never learned how, because I didn’t need to. I don’t even think my parents know how.”

“Swimming is a life skill, Even!” Isak laughs, tugging the blanket tighter around him and leaning in closer, just slightly. “What happens if you’re on a sinking ship, huh? Then you’re just—for lack of a better word—absolutely fucked. The Titanic wasn’t the last boat to ever sink, you know.”

“I know how to avoid that,” Even smiles. “I’ll just never get on a boat.”

Isak splutters, “What if you fall in the pool? Hell, Emma almost did that today. Then what?”

“I’m 6’4, the pool isn’t that deep. And I’m hardly ever close enough to the edge to fall in.”

“Something could happen whether you like it or not, Even, and you’ll be insanely unprepared. I can’t let this stand. I’m going to teach you how to swim.”

Even chokes on the popcorn he’d been chewing, turning to Isak with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, you’re going to do _what_ now?”

“Teach you to swim,” Isak repeats. “Mikael told me today that you spend a lot of time in the aquatics center, anyway. So after practice, and after you get your drawings done, we can use the pool for lessons. I’ll be sure to bring some swim floats.”

At that, Even can’t hold back a laugh, shoving Isak away (only for him to come right back). “Oh, fuck you,” he chuckles. “I won’t be in any pool wearing swim floats.”

“I’m the teacher and you’ll do as I say,” Isak instructs. “Now, how about—”

It’s then that Isak’s phone goes off, cutting him off mid-sentence. Even can see Emma’s name on the screen from where the phone is resting on the table, the background a photo of the two of them at a beach somewhere, an ice cream in each of their hands. Even’s stomach twists at the sight of it.

Isak grabs his phone and presses answer, holding the phone to his ear. Before Isak can even get a word in, Emma is yelling over the line—Even can hear it from where he sits a few feet from Isak. Isak keeps trying to say something, apologize maybe, but he can’t seem to get a word in edgewise. Even starts to stand up to give them privacy, but Isak just puts his hand on Even’s knee, shaking his head. So Even stays.

The phone call doesn’t last long, and Isak barely speaks at all. He doesn’t look particularly upset when he puts the phone down, but Even asks if he’s okay anyway. Isak just nods, laughing a little bit and rubbing the back of his neck. “I forgot to text her telling her that I got here safely. She got worried that something happened to us.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Even opens his mouth to say something else, but Isak cuts him off. “Swim practice is probably over now. Do you want to go to the pool, start some swimming lessons?”

For a moment, Even hesitates. He doesn’t particularly want to, had kind of been hoping that the whole swimming lessons thing was a joke. But he can see the way Isak’s body has simultaneously tensed and grew restless; from the clench in his jaw to the way he’s tapping his foot. He can tell that Isak wants nothing more than to be underwater now, and Even is already so whipped that he knows good and damn well that telling Isak no is impossible.

So he agrees. He’s still a little uneasy about the idea, but the smile it brings to Isak’s face makes it worth it. So he packs his swim suit and a change of clothes and, a bit reluctantly, starts walking to the aquatics center with Isak in tow. Even’s really, really hoping that swim practice is genuinely over, because the last thing he wants to do is admit to an entire group of boys that he doesn’t know how to swim. Not that he thinks Isak would embarrass him like that, but he could very well embarrass _himself._

Thankfully, the center seems empty. The locker room, they discover, is newly vacant. They seem to have come at just the right time, because practice had only just ended. They change into their swimsuits and then make their way to the deck.

“Do you have any fear of water?” Isak asks, climbing into the shallow pool without any hesitation. Even shakes his head, climbing in after him. Even’s been in a few pools, as well as the sea a few times. He’s tall enough that he can go pretty deep and still stand, thankfully. “Great. So the first thing we’re going to work on is one of the most vital parts of swimming: kicking. This is going to seem really juvenile, okay, so you have to trust me. Do you?”

Even nods, “Yeah, I trust you.”

“Good. Just hang onto the edge and go horizontal. As you kick your legs, you’ll notice your body going higher. Try to kick straight.” Even does so, trying to ignore the immense embarrassment he feels. Isak wasn’t lying when he said it’d seem juvenile. “When my dad taught me to swim, he went for the Viking method. I was, like, 5 years old, and he just threw me in. My mom was in the pool, too, and she was supposed to catch me, but dad says I hit the water and just started swimming like I’d always known how.”

“Maybe you were born for it.”

“Maybe it’s Maybelline.”

Even rolls his eyes, “Ha ha. Funny.”

“Okay, so now try kicking while swimming.” He grabs a kickboard from the side of the pool, one that he’d pulled out from one of the bins against the wall. Even positions himself on it and kicks like Isak had told him to—legs straight out—going to the end of the lane and coming back. It’s surprisingly easy. If the rest of it is just as easy, Even will kick himself for _years_ for putting swimming lessons off.

When he comes back, Isak takes the kickboard and puts it aside. “Okay, good. Now we’re going to try and tread water. This needs both arm and leg movement, alright? Like this.” Isak sinks into the water and moves his arms and legs. “Treading means you have to stay vertical with your head up. If you’re not vertical, you’re just swimming.” He stands up again, and Even catches himself staring at the water droplets on Isak’s muscles, fantasizing about licking them off (even though he knows it’ll taste like chlorine). “You try.”

Even obliges, but it ends up being a lot harder than Isak had made it look. He can’t keep his head up, nor can he keep his body vertical. He keeps trying, and failing, and then trying again—only stopping when he gets water up his nose for the 2nd time.

“Don’t fight the water,” Isak coaches, sinking down to demonstrate again. “Just move in gentle, circular motions. Work with the water, not against it.”

“What does that even mean? I did exactly what you did,” Even sighs, lowering himself back into the water. He tries to apply the correction Isak made, but he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, and he ends up swallowing a mouthful of water this time. “Jesus fuck, how hard can this be? Kids do this all the time, why can’t I?” He mumbles to himself, trying again. He grows more and more frustrated with every attempt.

Eventually, Isak has to stop him. He puts his hands on Even’s arms, holding Even still, and all of the oxygen and blood freezes in Even’s body. Isak’s hands are chilled from the water, but they’re soft, and the touch is so _powerful_ that it calms him instantaneously. He’s so fucked.

“If you don’t work with the water, it’s not going to work with you. It’s like quicksand. The harder you fight, the faster you sink.” He stands above the water this time, showing Even clearly how to move his arms. “This is going to sound so stupid, but you just have to keep working for it. Some people are born with the talent, others aren’t. But everyone can gain it. Even people like Ryan Lochte or Michael Phelps were once just a contender, and look at them now. They worked for that. If you’re not born with water in your veins, it’s up to you to put it there. And I know you can do that, Even.”

Even nods. “I can do it. I just have to work for it.” He copies Isak’s arm motions for a moment, before slowly sinking in, and trying again. It takes him a couple of tries, but eventually he starts getting the hang of it, and can keep himself _mostly_ vertical. The look of pride on Isak’s face is enough to push Even to try harder, to want to _swim_ , to want to hold his breath and move underwater as easily as Isak does.

Maybe he’ll never get there. He’s never been very good at any other sports—the sports that you can actually _breathe_ whilst playing. It’s okay, though. It’s nice to think about, at least.

After an hour of perfecting Even’s treading, they climb out of the pool and go back to the locker room to shower and change. Even has to focus hard on staring at the tile wall ahead of him and not at the very naked Isak standing next to him.

“You did really good, you know,” Isak grins, and Even forces a smile. “Next time we can work on doggy paddling. You’ll be swimming underwater before you know it!”

 _Next time._ It sounds like a promise, and one that Even is more than willing to keep. “That sounds good. I had a lot of fun today, even when I was getting frustrated.” He turns in Isak’s general direction, but still doesn’t look at him. “Thanks for teaching me.”

Isak chuckles. “It’s no problem. I love being in the pool, so this is just another reason for me to do more of what I love.”

“Hopefully I won’t get as frustrated as I did today.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Isak says, stopping and turning to face him. Even wants to make eye contact so badly, wants to see the undoubtedly soft look on Isak’s face, but he doesn’t. He cannot pop a boner right here in front of Isak, he’d never be able to show his face again. “Don’t worry about yesterday. All that matters is who gets their hand on the wall first today.”

Even snorts, “Why are all of your inspirational quotes swim related?”

“Because they all came from my high school swim coach,” Isak laughs along. Even hears him turn off the shower, so he waits a few seconds before turning around to look. Thankfully, Even had judged time appropriately, because Isak is safely wrapped in a towel. “Thanks for this afternoon, by the way. I obviously had a really shitty start to the day, and it means a lot to me that you did all of this to make me happy.”

Even tells himself that the blush on Isak’s cheeks is just because of the warmth of the showers, but even he can’t be sure that’s true. “I know you were nervous about swim lessons,” Isak continues, fiddling with the edge of the towel. “And it’s totally okay if you don’t want to continue them. I just… I love Emma, I do. Things just get a little stressful sometimes, and on top of me just starting school, and now swim practices? I was so overwhelmed, I just… I really needed this, I really needed a swim. The water just calms me, you know? Being in the water, especially underwater— You can’t hear anything. It’s just me and the water around me, I’m not thinking about anything other than the next few meters I have to swim. It’s therapeutic. For a short time, I don’t have to think about anything other than the next moment, and then the one after that. Nothing else.”

“That’s really beautiful. I’m glad you have that, Isak.” Even reaches to turn his shower off, wrapping himself in a towel and then moving to change. Isak finally does the same.

“Don’t you have something like that? Your art, maybe?”

Even shrugs, giving Isak a small smile. “Not really. Things get really intense sometimes, and there’s not much I can do about it when it happens.” Even swallows the word bipolar, pushes the admission to the back of his mind. “Maybe I’ll find it someday. Maybe it’s not a some _thing,_ but a some _one,_ and I just haven’t found them yet.”

Isak’s quiet for a few moments, and Even turns to face him. There’s a weird look on his face, the same one he had before—like he has something to say, but doesn’t know how to say it. Even watches the defeat sag Isak’s body down, and he can’t help but wonder what’s plaguing the pretty boy’s mind. He wonders if Isak wonders what’s plaguing Even’s.

“I’m sure you’ll find that someone—or something—one day.”

“I hope so.”

Isak closes the locker, zipping his bag and facing Even. “Do you mind driving me home?”

“No, of course not.” He gathers his own things. “See you back here for our next swim lesson?”

“Yeah,” Isak agrees, a weak smile on his face. Even wants to kiss that expression away. “It’s a date.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @femmevilde
> 
> not beta'd, all mistakes are mine


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